


midnight crush

by jojotxt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, M/M, mild drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojotxt/pseuds/jojotxt
Summary: Lance blinked, and suddenly it was like the sky opened up. The heavens beamed down and a heavy light shone on the boy in front of him. His eyes were purple. Lance swore he heard angels sing. He grinned up at the man in a daze.Just like that, it was an instant crush.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was based on a video [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooD9m5vQu70) video to be exact and it was so cute and just.... i needed some Good Klance Content after season 2 so... YEAH

Lance thought that midnight was the perfect moment in between the different rushes of day and night. The day rush was filled with wrinkled papers and spilled ink pens combined with the kind of headache that could only be gained from staring at a whiteboard for hours upon end. The night rush, full of muffled electro-beat music, early morning microwaved macaroni, and heavily watered down rum and Coke, was Lance’s reprieve.

He liked to pretend he was drunk around his friends. Hunk and Pidge didn’t really care whether he was or not—neither of them were even remotely close to intoxication. Pidge didn’t touch a lick of alcohol—she was more of an apple juice kind of gal, and Hunk tried one sip of rum and promptly threw up in Lance’s fake ficus.

He had gotten the rum from his sister, and the Coke from the vending machine down the hall. The cliché red solo cup came from the 7-Eleven down the block. Together, they formed what would probably become Lance’s greatest mistake.

He was a little buzzed, not drunk enough to forget everything come morning, but drunk enough to not make sense. He was definitely supposed to be studying for midterms, but at that point, he was too far gone in his procrastination to care. He was playing some kind of bass-heavy music Pidge had brought with her. It was loud enough to drown out the 8-bit playing from his TV and almost loud enough to drown out his yelling when Hunk threw a blue shell at him.

By the time midnight came, Pidge was laying on Lance’s bed, halfway between awake and asleep, and Lance was in a happy, lackadaisical state bordering on no-sobriety. His head was laying on Hunk’s stomach and he was talking about cats, when a man walked into the room.

He was saying something, Lance could tell. Something about them needing to be quieter, because people were trying to study. Or something like that. Yeah, he was definitely forming words with his mouth. He had acne. His hair was black, like Midnight.

_Midnight._

Lance blinked, and suddenly it was like the sky opened up. The heavens beamed down and a heavy light shone on the boy in front of him. His eyes were purple. Lance swore he heard angels sing. He grinned up at the man in a daze.

“Lance, no,” Pidge, who was apparently wide awake now, said from his right. Hunk snorted.

Lance, _yes_.

Just like that, it was an instant crush.

* * *

Lance didn’t know his name. For weeks he would sit down at his desk and write poetry about the _wavy tresses of his midnight black locks_ and play meaningless chords on his ukulele. He wrote a song about the way his eyelashes fanned over his cheeks when he blinked down to look at Lance in his inebriated state. He looked at him like he was crazy, and he was gorgeous.

“I call it the Midnight song,” Lance said, plucking a few chords. His pick was slipping from his fingers.

“You don’t even know his name,” Pidge said, tapping at her phone.

“No,” Lance said, looking up at his ceiling. He could hear the people above him jumping on their beds and laughing. He tapped his finger against his jeans and wiggled one finger against a frayed hole he had made when he fell off his bike trying to balance on a wall. “But I remember he was holding a can of peach flavored soda. Whatever that means.”

“That’s so specific.”

Lance frowned. “Or was it orange?”

* * *

Lance went to the room next door, intent on talking to the boy who had stolen his heart. His palms were sweaty and he was pretty sure he forgot to put on deodorant that morning. He probably smelled like a gym sock because he hadn’t showered in two days. He knocked on the door with his good hand, the one that did not have three miniature peaches in it. It was fall. He was pretty sure he was three seconds away from puking.

It was also three am.

The boy opened the door, his roommate looking over from where he was seated on his desk. Why was he seated on his desk? Lance didn’t know. But Lance had looked at the one of the name tags on the door, the shiny plastic burning into his retinas.

_Keith._

He had a pink highlighter mark on his cheek, and he was looking at Lance like he had grown three extra heads. Three extra peaches.

Lance grinned and held out his hand. “I bought these peaches from this girl. I bought them… because they were so tiny. Like, what the hell, why are they so small? And I thought. You know? I should give these to my neighbor Keith. He would like these. So yeah, I have these. These _many_ mini peaches.” He nudged his hand forward. “For you.”

“Oh my God,” his roommate whispered.

Lance gave Keith an honest look, so open and undeniably _happy_ and proud of himself, for bringing Keith these three miniature peaches.

Keith looked up in wonder, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ. He looked down at Lance’s hand, the one that held the peaches. “ _Oh_.” He grinned. “Thanks.” He took the peaches and softly shut the door.

Lance stood outside the door, grinning.

He heard a small voice from behind the door gleefully whisper, “He likes me. He _likes me._ ”

* * *

They became friends, funny enough, when they should have become boyfriends from the start. It was so natural, how Keith fit into Lance’s life like he had been there the whole time. He was blunt and honest, and sometimes Lance would get caught up in his nitpicking. He would pick fights with him and purposefully annoy him, and he would revel in the way Keith’s face would turn a nice shade of pink.

But it was nice. Nice.

Lance would bring his ukulele with him while Keith would study in his room. He would highlight notes, pink and yellows blending into the paper, and suck on Jolly Ranchers while Lance hummed and played songs about getting lost in love and life. Lance would laugh when Keith would stick his tongue out and it would have turned blue. Sometimes he would share the candy with Lance, and they would have contests to see who could turn their tongue the most ridiculous color.  

Lance would bring his ukulele with him while they did laundry together. He would sit atop a dryer and play a working song while Keith laughed at his stupid lyrics and mixed his colors with his whites. Keith didn’t care about stuff like that. Lance would bang his feet against a washing machine and make a beat while Keith waited for his clothes to dry.

Lance would bring his ukulele with him while they relaxed in the courtyard. He would splay across a bench and Keith would sit on the ground next to him, his head laying against Lance’s stomach. He would ask Lance to play some songs he wrote, and Lance would laugh and shake his head and say he didn’t write songs. Keith knew he was lying, but said nothing anyway.

Even when they weren’t together, Lance would play his ukulele for him. Keith would be next door, and Lance would play the songs he didn’t want to play around him. He knew Keith could hear, and Keith knew that he knew he could hear. He would play, his fingers shaking and slightly numb—he had lost his pick at some point, he doesn’t remember when. His voice would crack when he sang and it would waver as if he were about to cry. He never cried, though.  

He sang the Midnight song at midnight, and Keith would listen, his head against the wall, eyes closed, his mouth curved up into a smile.

* * *

Lance left over the summer in between their Freshman and Sophomore year to visit his family in Cuba, and suddenly, the world was gray all around. Keith looked up at the ceiling of his room and watched the light of day turn into the dark of night. There was no music, no strumming and singing and loud voice combined with an even louder laugh. It was quiet save for the humming of Keith’s portable fan.

He missed him. He missed Lance’s soft voice and soft skin and soft hair that Keith liked playing with. He missed the bickering conversations they would have and the way Lance’s eyes would light up when Keith laughed at something he said.

He missed him.

_He missed him._

He was outside when he realized it.

The sun was beating down on him relentlessly, and he was sitting with Lance’s friends in the courtyard, the same one where he would rest his head against Lance’s side and listen to him sing about love and everything that came to mind.

Love.

Keith thought about the mini peaches that no longer existed.

“Oh my God,” he said to the trees. “I love him.”

Pidge looked up at him and grinned, like he had made her entire week. “Finally.”

* * *

Keith looked at his phone, gripped tightly in his hands, the text glaring up at him.

_I love you._

He sighed and deleted it before he could click send.

* * *

Lance came back that fall and he was beautiful. He had grown taller and his hair was longer and his smile was wide when he lifted Keith in his arms and spun him around in his dorm room. Keith wanted to count the freckles on his nose and kiss them each individually. He wanted to kiss under Lance’s eye and tell him how he felt.

Lance had brought him back a glittery keychain and he preened when Keith grinned so widely and stuck it on his lanyard, next to his student ID and dorm keys. He told Keith about his trip, and showed him a scar he got from when he knocked his chin against a rock when he was swimming in the ocean. He said he liked it because it made him look dangerous. Keith said it made him look stupid (a beautiful kind of stupid, but he didn’t say that), and Lance laughed and said that _Keith_ was stupid, and Keith reserved that laughter for his memory, smiling up at Lance like he was all Keith ever knew.

Keith shuddered and went over to Lance’s bed and sat down, his knees shaking. He could feel Lance looking at him with concern.

He thought about peaches.

Keith looked up at him and then said in a stuttering voice, so quiet and timid, “Hey—uh, I-I think I, uh. I think I love you.”

Lance blinked down at him, his eyes wide. Keith was blushing. His eyes were purple, and his hair was midnight black. Lance’s heart was beating out of control.

“I… um. I gotta go.” Lance ran out of his own room, breathing heavily. He ran down the hall and ran down the stairs and ran out the doors of their dorm. He ran and ran and ran and ran.

There are steps to this, Lance thought. There are steps, and he and Keith obviously missed the steps. They weren’t supposed to go like this.

Meeting someone, dating, getting to know each other, spending time together, saying the L word at some point. It was all very classic, very simple. Very easy. But Keith said the L word before they could do any of that.

That wasn’t easy.

His breathing was rapid and he ran until he reached the courtyard. At that point, he was two seconds away from throwing up his lunch, so he sat heavily on a bench and curled up, his head on his knees. He breathed deeply, in and out. In and out. In. Out. He laid on the bench and looked up at the sky through the trees. They moved with the breeze and whispered against Lance’s skin.

He thought about Keith and he thought about the months they had known each other and he thought about Jolly Ranchers and purple tongues and soft laughter and pink highlighters. He thought about peaches.

The trees seemed to whisper, like they knew something he didn’t.

And it all fell into place.

“Oh,” he said. Then he got up and he ran some more. He ran out of the courtyard and back toward the dorms. He ran through the doors of the building and ran up five flights of stairs and ran down the halls and ran back into his room.

He heaved open his door and saw Keith sitting where he left him, his eyes shining with tears. _Shit_. Keith looked up and saw him, and he immediately stood up. He waved his hands in front of his face. “Look, I… I’m sorry if I like made you uncomfortable or anything I just—”

Lance held up a hand and leaned his palms against his knees, hunched over and wheezing. He was sweating through his shirt and there was a dull ringing in his ears. In. Out. In. Out.

Once he controlled his breathing, he looked down at Keith with a determined look, but really, he was dying inside. “You know… I um.” He looked at the ceiling. “I um, I. I like, I think a lot sometimes, y’know?” He looked at the floor. “And, um. I did some thinking just now and I.” He looked at Keith. He looked at his purple eyes and his Midnight hair. “And I, um. I yeah. I love you too.”

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Keith blinked and grinned, tears free falling down his cheeks. Lance grinned back and he ran forward and lifted him up again. Keith wrapped his legs around his waist and they laughed and laughed and laughed.

Keith looked down at him and his smile was gorgeous, and Lance just wanted to kiss him, so he did. He kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

He kissed him until midnight, until the only thing he could think about was the feeling of Keith’s hair brushing against his cheek.

It’s like being in a haze. Like your heart is passing out, these kinds of crushes. Lance thought the name was fitting. _Crushes_. That’s probably why they’re called that. Because you feel like you’re being crushed.

He grinned.

Crushes turn into peaches, and then it turns into love.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://transoiks.tumblr.com)


End file.
